Who am I? And who are they?

This is not an existential question. And I don’t have amnesia. But I’m definitely not who I thought I was.

For decades I’ve been operating under the mistaken belief that I am a unique, one-of-a-kind dame. I was dead wrong. There are hundreds and hundreds of us, all with the same name on our driver’s licenses. I’ve seen pictures of them, two were mug shots. They don’t look like me, they don’t think like me, they don’t dress like me, but sure enough, they are me.

I’m the one who isn’t. Just like Santa and the tooth fairy, I don’t really exist. I’m only your imaginary friend and a figment of my own imagination. Whoa, hang on, I just blew my mind.

All along I thought I’d dropped out of college in my senior year, but no; I’m a PhD student in microbiology. I believed I was a writer, too, but no; I’m a teacher. Or an affianced artist, a sex offender, a dermatologist, an attorney, a yoga instructor, a drunk driver, or a recreation supervisor. I don’t want to be one of thoooose. Wait, artist sounds okay, I’ll be that. Can I ditch the affianced part?

One of my many Facebook pages, which I didn’t know I had, says I’m a fan of Wheel of Fortune and Ritz crackers. That was news to me. Another one says I’m a fan of science, Howie Day, and the cello. Science, seriously? So, not only has my name been hijacked, it’s been hijacked by duds and lawbreakers. Where are my Facebook pages with mentions of luxurious vacations and exotic homes and fabulous dining? I couldn’t find them. Couldn’t find the pages with awesome family connections, either — say, to Warren Buffet or Steve Jobs. Didn’t find a long-lost uncle who’s a best-selling author looking for an heir named me. Not a tycoon or a magnate in the bunch.

Not only did I fail to find a noble, glorious family link, I somehow lost myself in the crowd. I discovered I’m not unique, just one of many. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, just different. I discovered, as well, a positive side to being one of a crowd: I haven’t besmirched the family name half as badly as the two criminals.

That is sweet relief. I should send a thank you note, don’t you think? How about:

Dear Imposter:

Thank you for being a blacker sheep than I am or expect to be. By the way, my name is copyrighted. Please, stop using it.